


The Awakening

by Anything_Goes29



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Needs To Use His Words, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mating, Possessive Behavior, Sexytimes, Slash, Top Derek, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anything_Goes29/pseuds/Anything_Goes29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles feels like the weak link of the pack. He also definitely does NOT harbor a crush on Derek Hale. </p><p>But, when Stiles discovers that he is more powerful than he knew, and Derek Hale starts showing an interest in him, could it all be too good to be true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski was not in a good mood.

Having to deal with jackass Alpha werewolves camping around your town will do that to you. And his pack wasn’t helping. No one had been able to shift and hunt since the Alpha pack arrived, about three weeks ago. Everyone was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, even the humans in the pack. The Alphas had been vague in their demands… well, they never really made demands. They were just there, stalking people around town and killing animals. Derek had tried to communicate with them, but their leader, a brute of a man named Wren, only told him, “We are waiting out the coming storm. Do not enter the forest while we are here.” before disappearing. Even Deaton couldn't figure out what the cryptic phrase meant. 

Stiles had taken to studying old legends, trying to find something to use against the Alphas. Stiles learned firsthand that most of the ‘legends’ that people take as fiction are based in some sort of fact. Werewolves, example A. Of course, all the other things that go bump in the night had to be real. Gremlins, trolls, elves, faeries… Stiles shivered. Evil little fuckers, one and all. And even better, none of them could seem to stay away from Beacon Hills. Hip hip hooray. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Stiles barely had time to look up from the book of supernatural legends Dr. Deaton had lent him before Scott swung in through the opened window (Stiles really never bothered to lock his window anymore, what with werewolves coming and going all the time). Scott settled down on Stiles’ bed, inhaling deeply. Stiles raised an eyebrow, not wanting to ask. “Sorry. You smell like pack.” Stiles rolled his eyes internally. He certainly didn’t feel like pack. 

“What’s up, Scott?” Scott bounded to his feet. “There’s going to be a pack meeting tonight. Derek heard from the Alphas.” Stile perked up at this. Maybe the Alphas would finally leave Beacon Hills for good. “It’s about time. Tell Derek I’ll be there.” Scott nodded, and headed towards the window. Stiles turned back towards the leather-bound book on his desk. Scott’s voice arrested his movement. 

“Are you okay, Stiles?”

In truth, Stiles wasn’t okay. He felt isolated from the pack, from his friends. He was just the weak human. Even the other non-werewolves, Lydia and Allison, had hunting skills learned from the Argents. Stiles, bless his heart, couldn’t shoot a crossbow to save his life. The only useful skill he learned from the Argents was knife fighting. It worked great against human assailants, but not so much on murderous witches and the like. All he was good for was doing all the research on the latest threat to the stability and peacefulness of Beacon Hills.

But he couldn’t tell the pack that. The sympathy and pity he would get would be unbearable, and would only serve to make him feel worse. Stiles needed to find something to give him an edge, something to fight with. Only, he didn’t know what.

“I’m, uh, fine, Scott. Just tired, is all. I’ve been up late researching the last few nights.” Stiles prayed that Scott fell for the lie. If Scott suspected that something was wrong, the first person he’d tell would be Derek. Stiles shivered at the thought of the brooding Alpha. Of course, Stiles told himself firmly that the shiver was purely out of fear. Yep, totally, 110% fear. The guy did have an unnatural fixation on shoving Stiles into walls. But, in truth, Stiles knew that there was something more there. Stiles didn’t know what it was, and he definitely didn’t want to find out. He had enough on his plate as it is.

“Alright. Get some sleep before the pack meeting, okay? You look like death walking.”

Stiles grinned back at his best friend. “I will, don’t worry. I’ll see you later tonight.” Scott, seeming to be satisfied with that answer, waved at Stiles before bounding out through the window and into the woods behind Stiles’ house. Stiles yawned as he sat back down at his desk. A fierce wind suddenly blew through the window and flipped the pages of the book. The wind only lasted for a few seconds before calming down. Stiles glared down at the book, annoyed at losing his place. He was about to start leafing back through the pages, but something caught his eye. 

It was an intricately drawn, colorful portrait of a young man, wearing a leather tunic and carrying a satchel at his side. The interesting part, however, was the form of an Alpha werewolf crouched at his side. The boy’s hand was resting on top of the werewolf’s head, and they both gazed defiantly out of the book. Stiles looked at the page across from the picture and read the description there. It was written in an archaic, flowing script, so Stiles had a bit of a challenge deciphering the whole thing. When he finished, it read:

“There are humans who can interact very easily with the world of the supernatural. Some of them have an innate hatred towards the supernatural; they use human means and technology to eradicate the supernatural from their world. They are the Hunters. 

Others, however, actively help the supernatural, especially werewolves. These Messengers, as they are called, exist especially with werewolves. They draw less on human technology, than their innate magic. They draw on the power of the stars and earth to protect and assist their chosen pack. In return, the pack protects the Messenger from other creatures who want to steal their magic for themselves. It is commonplace for the Messenger of a pack to mate with the Alpha; the Alpha’s instinct is to protect the pack, and the Messenger can give them the power to do so. Indeed, the Messenger can actively feed power into the pack bond to increase the strength and speed of the entire pack.”

Stiles reeled back in his seat. All he could think was Mate. With Derek. Images began to flit through his mind, against his will: Derek holding Stiles up against a wall, Derek biting and licking along Stiles’ neck, Derek’s hand slipping down into Stiles’ underwear, whispering “Mine” in Stiles’ ear…

Stiles jerked upwards, painfully aware of his burgeoning erection. His cheeks burned with shame, chastising himself for those thoughts. Derek doesn’t want you, Stiles thought. He turned his gaze back to the drawing on the first page. Now that Stiles looked, the boy’s hand was more than just resting on the Alpha’s head; it was as if the boy had been caught in the action of caressing the Alpha. The Alpha, in turn, seemed to be leaning in towards the boy, almost supporting itself on him.

Stiles moved to close the book, slightly unnerved, but some instinct made him leave a pen in the book to mark the page with the portrait and description. He let out a huge yawn, surprising himself. Stiles hadn’t realized how tired he was. He moved over to the bed, not even getting under the blankets before passing out.  


Stiles opened his eyes to a forest. It was reminiscent of the one surrounding Beacon Hills, but there was something… more about it. It could just be the copious amounts of fog floating just above the ground. Speaking of which, Stiles was freezing. Stile looked down, and started. He was wearing a leather tunic and satchel, just like the boy in the picture. ‘This is too weird.’ Stiles thought, but something made him start walking forward.

Stiles was still trying to stop his stubborn feet, when he was startled by the brush of fur against his side. He flicked his eyes across, to the shape of a fully shifted Alpha werewolf at his side. Even though all Alphas look roughly similar in their fully shifted form, Stiles knew without a doubt that the wolf was Derek. As Derek looked over, Stiles could see emotion in Derek’s eyes. The more Stiles looked, the more it seemed like lov-. Stiles clamped down ruthlessly on that thought, dismissing it as a product of his own overactive imagination. He looked away quickly.

Through this whole exchange, Stiles and Derek had kept walking through the forest and arrived at a clearing in the trees. A stone circle in the ground occupied most of the space, but eight stone thrones were arranged in a perfect circle around the edge. Stiles kept moving into the center of the circle, but as soon as he passed inside the ring of thrones, Derek left his side and remained outside the circle. Stiles felt a pang of loss, but he pushed that firmly aside as well.

“Do not be afraid, Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles, having suddenly regained control of his body, whirled around to find an older woman standing in front of one of the thrones. Stiles was pretty confident that she hadn’t been there when he entered the circle. “Who are you? Where am I? What the hell is going on!?” Stiles yelled, only to have his voice be swallowed by the encroaching fog. The woman only smiled at him. “The power in your blood calls the circle together once more.” She stretched out her arms, and chanted: “I, Quyra, Star of the North, name the Names and gather the Eight once more. I call Hyrus, Bringer of Light to claim his place in the East. I call Olier, Flowing Waters, to claim her place in the South. I call Fanvir…” As Quyra called each name, a figure came out of the mist to stand in front of a throne. Stiles realized that the thrones were laid out on the compass points. Soon enough, all eight thrones were occupied by four men and four women. They were varied in age, ethnicity, and stature. The only common link, Stiles noted, was their clothing. Each one wore a long white robe with a large collar, each in different colors. 

“Why have you called the Eight, Quyra?” A young Asian man with a purple collar seated in the South-West throne –Avij, Stiles remembered – spoke up. “The boy in front of you holds the power within his blood. In his time, precious few hold any remnant of the power within them. I have called the Eight to bring forth this boy’s full power. He has an important role to play.” Quyra answered, never taking her eyes off of Stiles. Suddenly, the air filled with the booming voice of all eight… things speaking together. “Stiles Stilinksi, do you accept the power in your blood, in your mind and in your soul?” Stiles looked around wildly. “I don’t know!” The voice only repeated the question again and again, and Stiles continued to yell “I don’t know!” The voice boomed louder and louder and louder…  


“I don’t know!” Stiles awoke with a shout, looking about wildly. He slowly took a deep breath, and then another. “Whoa. That was intense.” Stiles looked over at the clock beside his bed and realized he only had ten minutes before the pack meeting. He got up, and began to get changed out of his now-rumpled clothes. However, something drew him to the old book, still sitting on his desk. He opened it to the page with the portrait, and a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. Stiles closed his eyes and turned the page. When he opened them, the feeling of dread solidified, like a lead weight in his abdomen. 

There, on the page, were eight miniature portraits, with writing next to them. Stiles didn’t even have to translate the writing to know that these were the same people who appeared in his dream. Below the portraits was a diagram of the stone circle, with the thrones and everything. One particular sentence jumped out at Stiles: “These beings collectively known as the Eight, gather in a different dimension and appear in the dreams of humans, normally older children, who hold the power of the Messengers in their hearts. The Eight awaken these abilities, and act as the governing body for all Messengers.” 

Stiles slammed the book shut and ran out the door to his Jeep. He prayed to every God he knew that the book wouldn’t be there when he returned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is late to the pack meeting. Derek is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! A ton of work just appeared for me out of nowhere. But I'm back! And with a new chapter, nonetheless! A thank you to everyone who commented and gave kudos to this. You guys/girls really helped to push me along in getting this done. Please continue to comment, I am very open to constructive criticism.

As his Jeep sped down the forest roads leading to the Hale House, he couldn't help but think back on the dream he had had. It was strange how much it had affected him; it wasn't like he hadn't had weird dreams before. But this one was different. When the Eight were calling him, something in him had responded, reaching out. It terrified Stiles, but a part of his brain grasped onto the idea of power.

By this time, Stiles had reached the Hale House. He pulled his Jeep to a halt and looked at his watch. 7:10. Shit. Derek wouldn't be happy. As Stiles ran up the front walk, he marveled at the amount of work Derek and the rest of the pack, Stiles included, had put into making the house livable again.

Stiles could still remember when, not too long ago, the house was a burnt-out ruin. At the beginning of the summer, Derek had announced that he intended to renovate the house and turn it into a place for the entire pack to live in. He found a large amount of money from insurance claims, on both the house and his family’s life insurance policies. The Sheriff and Mrs. McCall came around once while everyone was helping Derek plan out the new home. Stiles and Scott jumped on the opportunity to tell their parents everything. It took more than a bit of explaining, cajoling, and pressuring to convince Mrs. McCall and especially the Sheriff to let them continue with the pack.

After the new plans were finished, it didn't take long for the old ruin to be demolished –even the structurally sound parts were destroyed, Derek ordered – and for a new house to rise up in its place. It was a fully modern home, with many mirrored glass windows that reflected the trees around and disguised the true size of the house. Derek obviously intended it for a large pack, maybe even twice or three times the size the pack is now. Stiles felt strangely pleased with Derek’s forethought.

Stiles bounded up the front steps and slipped inside the house. Stiles barely glanced at the grand foyer before running through into the kitchen, built to feed many ravenous werewolves. Stiles snatched an apple from the counter and took a bite, composing himself before entering the main living room.

The main living room was the largest, most comfortable room in the entire house. It occupied both stories of the house. The upper floor opened up onto the room on a balcony, and twin spiral staircases allowed access to the upstairs. Across from the balcony and the door from the kitchen, the back wall of the house was completely made of reinforced glass, letting in plenty of natural light. The room bowed out in a rough semicircle, and there was a positively massive flat-screen TV with multiple DVD players and gaming consoles. In front of the TV, between Stiles and the back wall, were several couches and chairs spread out, along with large cushions across the floor. The pack occupied most of these couches, and everyone stopped and looked over as Stiles made his typically loud entrance.

“Sorry I’m late!” Stiles called out, halting just inside the room. Derek looked over at him with his stupidly expressive eyebrows raised. “We were wondering if you’d show up.” Stiles smiled sheepishly and rubbed a hand through his short hair. “Sorry I overslept.” Stiles began to make his way over to the couch where Scott and Allison were curled up, but Derek’s voice stopped him. “You can sit here, Stiles. I need to hear about the research you've done. Just because we’re focused on the Alpha Pack, doesn't mean we can ignore other possible threats.”

Stiles stiffened at the thought of sitting next to Derek, but swiftly pushed that aside. I don’t feel anything for Derek. But he didn't need to be a werewolf to hear the lie in that thought.

As soon as Stiles settled into the loveseat the Derek was occupying, he found himself pressed between Derek’s body and the arm of the seat. Ohmygodohmygod. Stiles could feel the heat radiating off of Derek’s body. As much as Stiles tried to ignore the feeling, he knew that these memories would be revisited many times late at night, for Stiles Time. Stiles was so caught up in this inner conflict that he missed Derek’s question directed at him.

“What was that?” Stiles glanced up at Derek. Derek rolled his eyes. “Jackson reported that he scented a small group of supernatural beings north of the town. Deaton told him that those were most likely trows. Care to explain?” Finally, something that Stiles could focus on besides the hard muscles of Derek’s leg.

“From what I understand, trows are like a cross between miniature trolls and goblins. They aren't terribly dangerous, but the can pose a threat in large numbers. They are often attracted to sources of power, be they man-made or magical. My guess is they’re headed towards the substation off of the road up there. It shouldn't take more than two of you to scare them off.”

Derek looked impressed, almost smiling at Stiles. Almost. Stiles felt a blush creep up his face, but he forced it down. “Well done, Stiles. Isaac and Erica, after the meeting is over, take the Explorer and head up to the substation. Jackson will give you the scent.” Jackson nodded and closed his eyes. Erica and Isaac did the same, and Stiles knew that they were communicating through the pack bond. It was a sort of telepathic connection between the werewolves of a pack. While it had its limitations, it was great for communicating non-verbal information, like emotions, scents, and locations.

“Alright guys, now for the main reason I called a formal pack meeting ahead of schedule. I heard from Wren today.” Everyone visibly tensed. Wren was definitely not one of the pack’s favorite people, along with the other Alphas in his pack. “What did the dick say?” Erica questioned, eyes blazing. “He wants to negotiate a truce. We will meet two weeks from tonight, at the new moon.” Derek said. Isaac piped up, “Does that mean that the Alpha pack might be leaving?” “We hope so. Now, Stiles. Have you found anything that might be of use against the Alphas?”

Stiles froze again. He didn’t want to tell anyone about what he found in the book, or his dream; at least, not until he took the time to examine it more. So, Stiles stalled. He fished out an oblong piece of black stone attached to a silver chain around his neck. “Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that, with so many Alphas living together, each Alpha’s individual power has been… reduced. The bad news is that my artefact has been drained by their presence in Beacon Hills. In fact, it’s been drained ever since the troll incident. I’m useless.”

After Stiles had explained everything to his father, the Sheriff had insisted that Stiles find some way of protecting himself. Stiles went to Deaton and asked him for something to use. Deaton gave him the stone, and explained that it was an artefact, a natural object imbued with magic energy. He explained that, like the mountain ash, Stiles could use his belief to direct the stored magic in certain ways. Stiles had used the artefact to help the pack before, but could never draw on too much power at a time. That was until the troll incident.

About a month ago, three trolls had appeared in the forest. Surprisingly intelligent, they had ambushed and captured Scott and Jackson, and used them as bait to capture Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Erica and Boyd as well leaving only Derek and Stile able to fight them. Derek traced the scent to a cave system deep in the woods. Derek tried to fight them off while Stiles searched for a weakness. Derek managed to take down one troll, but he was overpowered by the two remaining. They turned to Stiles, only to be struck with an intense blast of light. The trolls collapsed, but Stiles’ artefact went dark.  
After that, Stiles was unable to call forth anything from his artefact. Deaton told Stiles that, in his desire to save Derek and the rest of the pack, he burned through all of the power stored in the stone. After the loss of his artefact, Stiles became isolated from the pack.

Derek nodded. “Alright. We should talk to Deaton and see if he can help in any way. Stiles, can you stay afterwards for a bit? I want to talk to you about something.” Stiles froze. Alone. With Derek. Just the thought sent a spark of arousal through him. Stiles fought to keep it down, knowing how embarrassing it would be to have one of the wolves pick up on his arousal.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of planning and scheduling patrols of the territory. Soon, too soon thought Stiles, Scott cheerily waved goodbye to Stiles as he walked out with his arm around Allison. The rest of the pack scattered soon after, leaving Stiles alone with Derek. Stiles swallowed nervously, and began bustling around, straightening the couches and cushions that had been recently occupied. “Stiles.” Derek’s voice halted Stiles in his tracks. “Oh hey Derek, what’s up, just cleaning up, you shouldn't let this place get messy, you spent too much money on it…” Stiles rambled on while approaching the couch where Derek sprawled out. Derek just raised an eyebrow. Stiles took that as his cue to shut the fuck up.

“What’s the matter, Stiles?” Derek questioned. It was a simple question, but there were a thousand other questions floating just beneath the surface. Hazel-green eyes met brown ones, and held their gaze. Stiles could feel the words trying to get out, almost forcing their way past his lips. Some part of Stiles, the same part that responded to the call of the Eight, was reaching out to Derek. Stiles wanted to let it go, to let everything go, and let Derek take care of him. But Stiles’ (somewhat questionable) survival instinct held back the words. Stiles still could not bring himself to fully believe that Derek cares for him. But Stiles still had to say something. So he resorted to his natural defense mode: word vomit.

“Oh, no man, everything’s cool, yeah, no problems here, I’m all good, yeah, kinda tired though, I should totally get going, had a great time-“ By this time, Stiles had started to make his way towards the door. He didn't get far before Derek’s iron grasp closed around his wrist. “Stiles, please. Let me help.” Derek pleaded. His voice wavered with emotion. Stiles couldn't understand it. He didn't want to.

Stiles yanked his arm out of Derek’s hand and ran out the door. As Stiles gunned his Jeep down the forest roads, he could have sworn that a plaintive howl moaned its way through the forest. But Stiles determinedly put it off as the wind in the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally gives in to the demands of the Eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, I'm back! First, thank you again to everyone who reviewed and gave kudos. You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for your support.
> 
> On a side note, this chapter has a mention of attempted self-harm. It's really short and not very descriptive, but if you think it would trigger you, the section is set off by line breaks. Just skip over that part; it shouldn't affect the continuity of the plot.
> 
> Anyway, so on with the show (err, story)!

Four Days Later

“Stiles, I’m only saying this because I care. You look like shit.”

Stiles lifted his head off of his locker and turned to look at Scott. “Thanks.” Stiles responded in the driest tone he could muster. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s no big deal.” Stiles knew Scott was right.

Ever since Stiles had run away from Derek, he had scarcely been able to get a few hours’ sleep without having his dreams tormented with fragmented images of the Eight and hearing their voices calling out to him. More than once, Stiles had felt himself being pulled into the realm of the Eight, only to wake screaming in his bed. Of course, he always woke alone, as the Sheriff had been pulling regular all-nighters at the police station, dealing with a recent spree of vandalism and small animals being killed. Everyone knew it was the Alpha pack causing the trouble, but no one wanted to try and stop them.

“Alright. Hey, wanna hang out and play Halo later?” Scott offered. Stiles smiled slightly. After they entered high school, their video game nights with Scott had begun to fade away. When Scott started dating Allison, Stiles just stopped bringing them up altogether. Stiles wanted to be a good friend and let Scott’s relationship take priority, but Stiles still wanted to hang out with his best friend sometimes too.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Stiles said with a smile. “It’s been a long time since I've kicked your ass at Mortal Kombat.” Scott laughed and shoved Stiles playfully. “Well, I’ll talk to you later Scott. I’ve got English now.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “If I’m late again, Mrs. Kudowski will have my head.” Scott nodded. “Okay then. I’ll see you at lunch.” Stiles started walking, and Scott moved almost immediately towards Allison standing at the other end of the hall.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Later That Night

“Scott, pick up your damn phone!” Stiles muttered as he paced around his room. Scott was late for their first video game night in years. Typical. Stiles looked at his phone one more time, glaring at it as if it were the source of his problems. Resigned to wait, Stiles tossed his phone on the bed and turned back towards his homework.

Stiles had barely started when his phone started playing “The Imperial March”, Scott’s ringtone. Stiles flailed over to his bed and grabbed his phone. “Where are you?” Stiles asked, more than slightly annoyed. “I’m sorry Stiles.” Scott sounded slightly out of breath. “Derek called an emergency pack meeting to plan for the meeting with the Alphas.” Scott kept talking, but Stiles could barely hear him over the low pounding in his ears. Derek held a pack meeting? Without Stiles? “Scott, why was I not invited to this?” Stiles said, trying his best to keep his voice neutral. “I don’t know, Stiles. It’s only werewolves here, though. Allison and Lydia weren’t invited either.” There was an indistinct rumbling noise behind Scott. “Hey, Stiles, I gotta go. Listen, I’m gonna make the Halo night up to you, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” Stiles echoed dully.

The phone slipped out of Stiles’ hand. Stiles collapsed to sit on the floor leaning up against his bed. Stiles barely took a breath before a deep, shuddering sob burst forth from him. Stiles was completely consumed with the thought that Derek didn’t want him. It made no difference that Allison and Lydia weren’t invited. The rational part of himself was screaming at Stiles to get a grip, recognizing that Stiles was falling into depression. But he was too far gone inside the storm raging in his head.

“I can’t do it, I just can’t.” Stiles sobbed. _Stiles Stilinski, control yourself._ Stiles recognized the booming voices of the Eight inside of his mind. “You don’t get it!” _We have seen your mind, Stiles Stilinski. We know you better than you know yourself._  “Get out of my head!” _You are in danger from yourself. We are protecting you._ Stiles got up off of the floor and stumbled towards his bathroom. “Why bother? I’m worthless.” It felt good, in some perverse way, to admit what he had been feeling out loud. _Stiles Stilinski, you are far more valuable than you know._ Stiles searched frantically through the bathroom, becoming almost hysterical. “No! I don’t matter! I’ll show you. NO ONE CARES.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Stiles grabbed the razor blade laying on the edge of the sink. He took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of closure. Stiles closed his eyes and dragged the blade across his wrist.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“That should have hurt.” Stiles opened his eyes and looked down at his wrist: completely unblemished. Stiles watched this time as the blade swept across his skin, leaving a trail of red behind. However, the blade did not hurt, and the blood seemed to be sucked back into his skin as the cut closed itself. _We said we are protecting you._ Stiles dropped the blade and stumbled backwards against the wall. The shock of seeing his skin heal so rapidly had snapped him out of the depressive spiral he had been trapped in.

“Could I be able to do stuff like that?” _Yes. Powers like those and many more._ Stiles looked at his choices. Remain as he is now, or embrace these beings and his own power. _Stiles Stilinski, the choice is simple. Do you wish to be powerful, or powerless?_ When presented like that, it was no choice at all. “I will accept the power within me. I await your guidance.” As soon as Stiles said those words, the world around him ceased to be, and he slumped against his bathroom wall.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles awoke in the center of the stone circle in the realm of the Eight. Nothing had changed, and the Eight were gathered around him. Stiles scrambled to his feet. “Are you better now, Stiles Stilinski?” Quyra asked. “Yeah, or well, I will be. You can just call me Stiles, you know.” The old woman smiled knowingly. “We could. But names hold power, as you will know.” Stiles brushed himself off, realizing that he was dressed in the same tunic as before. “So… What happens now? Do you guys start teaching me?” Quyra shook her head. “It is a part of the Messenger’s path that he learn his powers on his own.” Stiles nodded slowly, warily. “Okay…”

Quyra and the others moved backwards gracefully, each returning to their separate thrones. They sat as one, and began to chant in a strange language and somehow, Stiles was able to understand it. The sound resonated in his bones, and touched something inside of him. It moved ponderously, like a leviathan of myth, but it rapidly diffused itself throughout Stiles’ being. The feeling was like a wire being passed through him, leaving a hot electric feeling behind. The taste of metal flared in Stiles’ mouth, but soon mellowed into taste not unlike an apple.

As Stiles looked around, each throne was glowing with a different color: blue, white, gold, green, purple, red, grey, and orange. The colors flowed through the etched designs on the floor of the circle, before swirling in a prismatic spiral around Stiles’ feet. As he watched, the colors seeped into the beings themselves as they chanted, and the entire image began rotating around him, faster and faster with each revolution. It reminded Stiles of the scene with the aliens at the end of the last Indiana Jones movie. He really hoped he wouldn’t end up like that scientist.

As the colors around him blurred together, Quyra’s form floated forward, glowing a brilliant white shot through with threads of the other colors. As she spoke, her voice boomed with the combined voice of the Eight.

“Stiles Stilinski, we have awakened the Messenger’s power within you. This power is drawn from the stars, the earth, the sun, the air, the sea, and everything in between. Your power is not unlimited, but you can draw more from these sources. There are very few limits to what you can do with enough of this power, but you are limited by what your body can handle. If you draw on more than you can control, then you will be destroyed.

This power comes with an additional price. Your power is not from the world of the humans. It is like a graft on the souls of certain humans. It will change you as you use it. They will be almost unnoticeable at first, but as you age your very being will change. That is the price you will pay.” Here her voice hardened. “Make no mistake, Stiles Stilinski. There have been Messengers who have thought themselves untouchable with their power. We brought them down, and we will bring you down if you go down that path. Go now, Stiles Stilinski. Use your power. The time of the Messengers will be reborn in you.”

Quyra’s voice faded in Stiles’ ears, and the whirling colors brightened until they blotted out his vision altogether.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Stiles awoke curled on the floor of his bathroom. The clock revealed that almost no time at all had passed in the realm of the Eight. Stiles got up and looked at himself in the mirror. “I don’t look any different.” There was only one way to find out if he had been changed. Stiles raised his hand, and searched inside of himself for that same electric feeling. When he found it, he tried to draw some of it out, into his open palm.

Stiles gasped as a glowing yellow light flowed out of his hand and pooled in his palm, giving off the strong scent of apples. The light flowed up Stiles’ arm and across, until his entire body was wreathed in a shifting yellow light. The feeling had passed from electric into an almost euphoric feeling. Stiles allowed the light to lift him off of the ground. Stiles tilted his head back and laughed.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Derek woke up gasping, erection rock hard between his legs. He heard Stiles’ laughter echoing in his mind, clearer than any memory. The sound brought forth an image of warm skin, bright brown eyes, and a wet, open mouth. Derek’s mind altered the image, as the thought-Stiles bent down between Derek’s legs, and tilted his head back to reveal a mating bite on his shoulder. The image, coupled with Stiles, _his Stiles_ , smiling up at him ripped his orgasm from him in a roar.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Wren shot up, eyes fixed on a point far in the distance. The rest of the Alpha pack heard the sound of laughter echoing through their pack bond. "What is it, Wren? Is something wrong?” One of the Alphas asked. Wren took a moment to answer, and when he did his voice was distant. Wren, older by even werewolf reckoning, was blessed with the gift of premonition. It was one of these that led him to form the Alpha pack and come to Beacon Hills. The downside was that he was forced to speak in ambiguity.

“The final piece of the puzzle is in place. With him, the perfect storm approaches, and even we will not survive here. We will leave at the new moon.” One of the other Alphas spoke up. “What about the Hale Pack?” Wren turned back to where his pack was assembled. “I cannot see. But I do know they will have to find a strength they do not yet have if they, and Beacon Hills, hope to survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so a lot of stuff happened in this chapter. From here on out, the plot is going to start picking up, and I'll try to keep updates coming as much as I can. 
> 
> As always, if you have questions, comments, concerns, ideas, general rants, etc. then please leave a comment below! I try to be good about responding to people's comments.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I love you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reveals his new-found power to his father and the pack, along with a surprise visit from Dr. Deaton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY.
> 
> Real life got in the way and then more real life and then I was away without internet for a while. D:
> 
> This chapter was getting excessively long, so I split it into two.
> 
> The next chapter should be up soon(ish)

The Next Day

“Ouch. Damn, I feel like a train ran me over.” Stiles groaned as he fought his way out of the twisted sheets on his bed. It was already 11 o’clock in the morning on a sunny Saturday, but Stiles was still feeling the effects of his late night studying the Messenger book, as Stiles had taken to calling it. The book had fallen off of Stiles’ bed, where he had left it before collapsing into bed.

“Oh, you’re finally up, huh? Well, there’s still breakfast on the table downstairs.” The Sheriff poked his head into Stiles’ room and saw his son only just getting out of bed. 

“Actually, hang on a sec Dad. I’ve got something I need to show you.” Stiles knew he had to reveal his newfound powers to his father sooner, rather than later.

The Sheriff dragged his hand across his face. “Stiles, please tell me it won’t be dangerous, illegal, disturbing, or some combination thereof.” 

Stiles stumbled over to where his father stood in the doorway. “I can’t promise anything…” Stiles lifted his hand up and allowed his power to bubble up to the surface. It gathered in a yellow cloud, spinning loops and chains into a rough orb floating above the teen’s palm. 

The Sheriff’s eyes widened almost comically. “Stiles? Is that… magic?” Stiles nodded. “I should have guessed. The only supernatural thing you haven’t touched yet.” John ran his hand through his (slightly graying) hair and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t kill anyone or do anything illegal and/or stupid with it, okay?” 

Stiles let the magic dissolve and hugged his father. “I knew you’d be cool with it!” The Sheriff gave a long-suffering sigh, but hugged his son back. “Now come downstairs and have breakfast. I made pancakes with bacon!” Stiles gathered himself for his patented “If you don’t eat healthy, you’ll die by the time you’re 65” lecture, but the Sheriff just laughed. “It’s turkey bacon, Stiles. I did learn something from you.” Stiles just grinned and pushed his father out of the room so the younger Stilinski could get dressed.  
~.~

Stiles put the last of the plates in the dishwasher, turned the machine on, and leaned back against the counter. Almost immediately, his phone began playing “I’ll Make a Man Out of You”, Derek’s ringtone. It still managed to send Scott into near hysterics whenever Derek called. “Hey, Wolfman. What’s up?”

“We’re having a pack day today. Come over as soon as you can.” Derek began having “pack days” as soon as the new house was completed. Derek would have the whole pack over for a day of games, training, and just hanging out. Stiles had to admit, they were an inspired idea for Derek. The time spent together really turned them from a group of teenagers (plus a 23-year-old) into a real pack.

“Alright then! I’ll be over in 10.” Stiles exclaimed. Derek laughed slightly, and Stiles could almost hear Derek smiling. “Will wonders never cease?” Stiles thought to himself. He put his phone away and turned to face his father. “I’m going over to Derek’s to hang out with the pack today. I’ll be back later this afternoon.” 

The Sheriff nodded. “Alright. Tell everyone I said hello.” Stiles nodded, and grabbed his backpack with the Messenger book in it. “Oh, and Stiles? I thought you and I could maybe go out for dinner tonight. We haven’t had time together in a while.” 

Stiles nodded firmly.” I’d really like that.” As he stepped outside, he took a moment to admire the gorgeous April day. The sky was scattered with clouds, and a slight breeze blew across Stiles’ upturned face. He tossed his backpack into the passenger seat of his Jeep and set off towards the Hale house.

As Stiles whipped along the winding forest roads leading out of town towards the Hale property, Stiles marveled at how a single night could change him so completely. In fact, Stiles reflected, he was still changing. So much of his fear and doubt that he had learned to live with was beginning to lift. It felt like a breath of fresh air to the teen.

By the time Stiles reached the Hale house, the rest of the pack had started sparring. Derek was currently shirtless, facing off against the combined assault of Scott and Erica. Stiles took a moment to admire the Alpha’s drool-worthy physique, but only a moment. Even with his newfound self-confidence, Stiles still couldn’t believe that Derek could return these feelings.

“Stiles!” Isaac was the first to notice Stiles’ arrival. The curly-haired wolf ran towards Stiles, only to come to a halt a few feet away, sniffing the air curiously. “You smell different, Stiles. Like, _really_ different.” The other wolves (along with Lydia and Allison) came up to Stiles as the scent echoed through the pack bond. Derek was the first to regain his composure. “Stiles, what happened to you?”

Stiles ran his hand through his short hair, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s easier if I show you first.” Stiles searched his mind for the place where his power hid. The more he called on it, the easier it became to access. Stiles took a deep breath, felt the power gather within him, and released it with his exhale.

This display of magic was much wilder than the one Stiles showed his father. Golden light leapt upwards and outwards from the teen’s hands, twisting into intricate shapes and patterns. Stiles’ eyes turned the same yellow shade, as they did whenever he used his power. The rest of the pack leaned away, afraid of this display of raw power.

“Impressive, Mr. Stilinski. It would seem you have plenty of raw energy to draw on.” A voice called. Stiles jumped, causing the light show in front of him to shatter and dissipate into the morning air. Dr. Deaton strode up the driveway from where his car was parked. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I sensed Stiles’ awakening last night and I had to come and visit.” Deaton turned towards Stiles. “I came to offer you. I once was a Messenger like you-” “Until you took an arrow to the knee?” Stiles interjected. Scott collapsed, howling in laughter. Deaton gave Stiles a strange look. “Sorry, pop culture. Continue.”

“As I was saying, I used to be a Messenger. I think I could teach you a thing or two. Or several.” Stiles smiled and gave Deaton an exaggerated salute. “Alright then, teach!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my story! I appreciate all of you comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles explores his powers, and a misunderstanding is cleared up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH! My life has been so crazy, and this chapter has been giving me serious writer's block! But I finally got it finished, and the plot should pick up a bit after this chapter.

“Let’s get started, then.” Deaton as he led the pack towards the field behind the Hale House, carrying a duffel bag full of… well, Stiles wasn’t sure what was in the bags, but Deaton said it was training equipment, and Stiles was inclined to trust the good doctor… for now. Deaton continued talking as he pulled out different types of equipment, from stone spheres of varying sizes, to wooden swords and staves.

“Stiles, the honest truth is that there are precious few Messengers left in the world. Hunters have been extremely… thorough in their mission to purge humanity of the Messenger gene.” Stiles rocked back in shock. 

“Why would hunters want the Messengers gone?” Deaton shook his head sadly.

“The majority of hunters are obsessed with purity. That’s why they go after supernatural creatures. To them, Messengers are a genetic flaw, a ‘corruption’. So, they try and ‘purge’ the gene pool.” The entire pack wore the same expression of shock by this time.

“Jesus, that sounds like Hitler or something!” Lydia exclaimed. Deaton looked at the assembled pack. 

“Well, Hitler was an amateur hunter, so I wouldn’t be surprised over the similarities.” As the pack digested that information, Deaton stood up. “Stiles, the point remains, you need training. I could feel from your awakening that you are very powerful, more powerful than any other Messenger that I’ve seen. In addition to your training, I want to test the extent of your powers. Once we understand that, you can begin experimenting as you wish.”

“What happened to you, Dr. Deaton?” Isaac asked. Deaton shook his head. “I don’t like to talk about it. Something happened some time ago, and I lost the majority of my powers.”

Stiles nodded, and Deaton smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Alright, Mr. Stilinski, let’s get to work.”

~~~~~

Stiles stood and watched as Deaton drew a large circle around himself, Stiles, and the equipment, separating them from the rest of the pack. “First lesson: a circle is an excellent shape for binding and containing. In this case, I’m making sure that none of your energy goes haywire.”

At Stiles’ nod of understanding, Deaton pulled out one of the stone orbs, this one the size of a baseball. “Now, the most obvious use of your power is to affect the world around you. Now, I want you to lift this orb from my hand.” 

The teen closed his eyes and allowed the power to flood his mind. Stiles mentally gripped some of the magic and shaped it into a rough hand. Controlling the hand in his mind, Stiles opened his eyes and reached out a hand towards the orb. The magic hand echoed his movements, and with an exhale Stiles smoothly lifted the orb out of Deaton’s hand and brought it towards himself. The sphere and Stiles’ hand were both sheathed in the same golden light. 

“Very good! You have at least a basic level of control over your power. Now you have to build on that. Let’s try something else. Right now, whenever you use your power, you surround yourself in it, like an aura. That’s a problem, because it’s very noticeable and it will drain your energy very quickly. Now, I want you to focus on holding all of the power inside you when you use it. It will still show in your eyes, but that should be the only outward manifestation.” Stiles nodded and focused on the ball in his hand, moving it back to Deaton. A metallic sheen spread across Stiles’ eyes, until it appeared as if his eyes had been replaced by small golden mirrors. However, no light shone anywhere else on his body.

Stiles dropped the ball in Deaton’s outstretched hand. The sheen faded from his eyes immediately. “Excellent!” proclaimed Deaton. “Now, one last test for today. Boyd, can you come here?” The dark-skinned werewolf stepped gingerly across the circle towards Deaton. At the same time, Deaton stepped backwards, out of the circle. “Alright. Boyd, I want you to fight Stiles. And don’t hold back, he’s stronger than he looks.” Boyd hesitated.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. At Deaton’s nod, he turned to face Stiles. “Alrighty then, Mr. Magic. Let’s see what you’ve got.” The larger teen rolled his shoulders and charged at Stiles, who jumped backwards with a not-so-manly shriek. The pale teen rolled out of Boyd’s path and willed one of the wooden staves towards him. It smacked into his palm just as Boyd turned to see Stiles laying there. Stiles swung the staff around to block the werewolf’s incoming kick- THUD. 

Boyd bounced back, surprised by the staff’s strength. Stiles clambered to his feet, holding the intact staff out in front of him in a fighting stance. “Come on, Boyd. Why don’t you actually try this time?” Stiles taunted. Boyd let out a feral growl as he raced towards Stiles. Stiles crouched to brace himself, only to see Boyd grab the staff with both hands and pull. The gold sheen appeared across Stiles’ eyes, and he pulled back against Boyd. The werewolf was shocked at the teen’s sudden strength. With one final heave, Stiles rolled backwards, flinging Boyd up and over his head. The bigger teen landed on his back with a grunt. Stiles rose again and jogged over to Boyd, planting his staff on the boy’s heaving chest. “I think this round goes to me.” Stiles called before giving Boyd a saucy wink and helping the boy up. 

“Where the hell did that strength come from, Stiles? And don’t tell me you’ve been working out.” Boyd questioned with a smile. Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but paused.

“You know what? I don’t even know.” The smaller teen said. Deaton crossed back into the circle and clapped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “That’s the second part of your power. You can use it to augment your physical capabilities. You were subconsciously channeling your powers in that fight.” Stiles grinned and twirled the staff around in his hands. “So what else can I do?”

Deaton shrugged. “I mean, with the proper preparation and focus, you can do practically anything. However, beyond basic manipulation and physical enhancement, you’ll need to study incantations and rituals in order to focus your energy.” Deaton retrieved a cloth-bound book from his bag and handed it to Stiles. It was about the size of a hardcover novel, and had a variety of symbols stamped onto the cover. “Contained in this book is the entire knowledge of the Hale Pack Messengers. Beyond what you can do with your instinct, all of the rituals, symbols, incantations and everything else is in here. It’s written in multiple languages, but it should be easy enough for you to translate it with your powers. Think of this as your first homework assignment,” Deaton chuckled. 

Stiles took the book from Deaton and flipped through the book. Each page was covered in words, symbols and diagrams. At the front of the book, everything was written in what looked like cuneiform and hieroglyphs, and progressed through Latin and Old English before ending in modern English. The last section of the book was written in neat, formal handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. “The book will take some work to translate. Your powers will help you, but you will need to study heavily to decode parts of the book.” Stiles turned to Lydia and batted his eyelashes. “Lydia darling,” he began sweetly. “I know you love a good challenge…” Lydia smirked. “Alright, but you’ll owe me for this one.” Stiles leaned over

“Finally, you’ll need a large space for rituals and practicing. It can be indoor or outdoor-” Derek cut in, “There’s a room in the basement that’s basically empty. I didn’t know what we would use it for, but you can use it for whatever you need.” Stiles smiled back at the Alpha, grateful. 

“Good then. Let’s get back to work. You’ve got a lot to learn still.” Deaton turned back to his bag as the rest of the pack spread out to train.

~~~~~  
Stiles left the bag of materials in the basement room before returning to the main floor. Most members of the pack had left; only Erica, Isaac and Peter were left in the house, but they were nowhere to be seen. Stiles yelled out a goodbye as he grabbed his bag and headed towards the door. He stopped, though, when he heard a grunt from upstairs. Stiles dropped his bag by the front door, then turned and crept up the stairs towards Derek’s room. The grunting got stronger as the teen approached the room. Stiles opened the door and stopped dead.

Derek was sprawled across the king-sized bed, completely naked. The werewolf fisted his cock with one hand and toyed with his nipples with the other. The stimulation drew moans and grunts out of the Alpha’s mouth. Stiles began to back out of the room, embarrassed about intruding on the werewolf. “Stilesss…” The teen froze, sure he had misheard. “Stiles… Mate…” Stiles exhaled shakily as heat pooled low in his gut. I gotta get out of here before I do something stupid. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off of the intensely erotic scene before him, knowing it was spank bank material for forever. As the teen walked backwards, he didn’t notice the hamper of clothes behind him until it was too late.

CRASH! “SHIT!”

Derek shot up out of his bed, startled at the sudden intrusion. Words of rage formed on his lips, but they faded as the Alpha saw exactly who had snuck up on him. Derek took two halting steps to where the younger man lay sprawled among Derek’s worn clothes. The scent of his pure, untouched mate mixed with his own scent drove Derek’s wolf up the wall with raw need. More importantly, Derek scented the tang of the teen’s arousal wafting through the room. Derek moved swiftly, lifting the lighter boy out of the pile of clothes and crowding him against the wall. “You have two choices, Stiles. You can walk out of here right now, and we’ll never speak of this again. Or,” Derek continued as he dragged his blunt human teeth along Stiles’ jawline up to whisper in his ear, “You heard me say mate, and I know you know what that means. If you want that, then my bed is right over there.” Derek released the teen and backed up to stand by the bed, leaving Stiles a clear path to the door.

For Stiles, the choice was no choice at all. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” Stiles murmured as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Derek reached over and ripped the shirt off of the teen, only to confront another shirt underneath. “Too. Many. Damn. Layers.” Derek growled as he clawed that one off as well. Derek moved towards the bed, but Stiles motioned for the Alpha to wait. Stiles pulled out his phone and sent a quick text before tossing the phone away. “I had to let my dad know I’d be spending the night.” Stiles said with a saucy wink. Derek smirked his approval before pulling the Messenger onto his lap. 

It was fascinating to Stiles how easy this seemed. Everything he had read (and he had read a lot of gay erotica) said that figuring out your physicality with another person is the difficult part. But this… this seemed natural. Like he and Derek always been meant for each other, and they were just figuring it out now. The roll of his hips against the Alpha’s abs, Derek’s minute thrusts upwards against the heat of Stiles’ body; all of these actions seemed as obvious as breathing once their bodies touched.

“I didn’t think you wanted me.” Stiles whispered. Derek clutched the teen to his chest. 

“Of course I want you. I was worried that you didn’t want me.” Derek whispered back, blushing slightly.

“We’re a pair of fools then, aren’t we?” Stiles laughed. Derek laughed along with him, and Stiles marveled at the sound. The pair quickly resumed their previous activities.

Derek’s lips found Stiles’ ear as Stiles dragged his hands across anything he could reach. “The things I’m gonna do to you… God they’ll make you scream. Scream my name as you come over and over again. But I won’t come until I’m in your ass. Splitting you open on my thick Alpha dick. Do you want that, Stiles? Want me to fuck you until you can hardly see straight, let alone walk?” The teen could only moan brokenly as he thrust against Derek’s ripped chest. “And you know the best part, at the end? Ii get to knot you. I get to stuff my knot in your abused hole, and pump you so full of my seed you’ll be leaking for days. I’m gonna mark you. Mark you as my mate for everyone to see. Do you want that?” Derek gripped Stiles’ chin and forced him to look Derek in the eyes. “I need to know you’re with me 100%”. Stiles swallowed once and looked Derek straight in the eyes. 

“I want it so badly you have no idea. I want everyone to know that I’m your mate. I accept the mating bite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you people enjoyed! Please tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for checking out my first story! If you liked it, didn't like, or just have something to say, please leave a comment. I love getting constructive criticism! Also, this is currently unbeta'd, so if anyone is interested, please just drop me a comment or message. Thanks!


End file.
